Hearts of Glass
by Miss British Teacakes
Summary: After the death of Sirius' father, many people must make many decisions on many levels. SBRL, WIP
1. Chapter 1

Notes: One of my more depressing fics, I know. I'll get back to lighter stuff in a while, I promise.

_And_………Ph34r my Regulus! I love playing with him because he is the most neutral character in the entire Harry Potter world, and ended up taking a life and personality completely different from some of the other ones you see. Did I mention I _love_ neutral characters? Anyway, enough of my blabbering, and on to the story!

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It was the day after the rest of Hogwarts came back from Christmas holidays that Sirius was taken out of class. Remus watched he and Dumbledore stand in the doorway. Sirius' stance was of boredom and annoyance, but as the headmaster spoke, he straightened, and his face became solemn. Sirius turned and walked away, in the direction that the dormitories were, Dumbledore heading to his own office after watching Sirius leave for a moment.

When class was done, Remus decided to skip his next class and head up toward the Gryffindor tower. When he got there, he saw Sirius shoving things into his trunk.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked, softly.

"Hm?" Sirius looked up, surprised for a moment before turning back to his things. "Oh. London."—Sirius never referred to Grimmauld Place as his home—"Turns out my father was killed in his study yesterday. Or the day before, who knows? Either way, it was found yesterday when Regulus went to go find him so they wouldn't miss the train. I can only imagine the shock of _that_."

"I'm sorry." Because Remus really didn't know what else to say.

"It's no big deal, really," Sirius said. "I'm more worried about legal matters than sad about his death. He wasn't exactly the nicest of people." _And I don't want to go back there,_ Remus knew he was thinking.

Remus walked over to Sirius and the taller boy put his arms around Remus' waist, burying his face in his stomach. Remus hugged Sirius back, stroking Sirius' hair.

"Come with me?"

Remus looked down at his friend, slightly surprised.

"Your mum won't mind?" he asked. "Won't she suspect something?"

"Heh." A small sigh. Or maybe it was a laugh. "Mum will _know_. She's given up; as far as she's concerned it will be 'fine, sleep with whoever you want, live where you want, I don't care. Just get married and provide yourself with a son so that the wealth can stay in the family.' Please, come. For my own sanity."

Remus smiled gently, and told him, "You know I'd go to the end of the earth for you. Of course I'll come, if it won't be any trouble to anybody else. But you know I don't have anything to wear. We can't afford clothes."

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said, looking up. "I'll buy you something."

And so Remus packed his trunk.

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Notes: Yes, I'm back. I figure I've written enough Weiss Kreuz for a while. Also, I'm thinking about changing my penname, so stay tuned for updates.

Just make sure to review!


	2. Chapter 2

The ride in the train was strange, with nobody else there. The two of them rode in silence, Although Remus held Sirius' hand the whole way. Neither knew quite what to say. Sirius supposed he should feel sorry; it was his _father_ that had died, not like the many other funerals that he went to because he was related to nearly everybody in the wizarding world, and in reality was seen more as a social event than what it really was. But he didn't, really.

And there was always The Doubt. He had _always_ been the heir to the Black lineage. But it was never really known whether he was _really_ the son of Saturnine; Angeline had broken a single social code and slept with two different men before marriage—Saturnine Black and the Baron Abignon, of France. After it was found out that he was pregnant, nobody would touch, save for Saturnine, who—because he believed himself in love with her—had convinced himself that the child was his. It was never proven either way, since Sirius grew to look more like his mother with each passing year.

That was the true nature of The Doubt, which always lingered on everybody's mind, Saturnine's more than anybody else. It was Saturnine's inconsistent love for Sirius that drove the two of them farther and farther apart. Saturnine would feel The Doubt tugging at his mind, and get angry, taking his frustration out on Sirius. The next day—the next week or month, even—he might shower affection on Sirius, as if to say he was sorry for ever doubting him. But his parents never gave him the kind of affection that Sirius wanted, and maybe it was simply because they didn't know _how_, but it was never right. They never spent time with their children, but their money. It wasn't Angeline or Saturnine that comforted a scared child, but spent the money to make sure they got the material object that either wanted.

And so it was, when he got into school, that Sirius began to want not what his parents would give him, but what his friends gave him. He entered school as a spoiled rich kid, and it earned him a slap in the face more than once from Remus and James. But he returned home changed, and grew even more distant from his family. And now, it felt like he didn't even know them. He felt no remorse for a stranger who was now dead, one that had beat him more than was due, and never was able to make up for it, and going to a place full of people who held different morals than him.

The two of them stepped off the train to see an empty platform, save for a single woman. She was dressed from head to toe in black, with her hair pulled tightly behind her head.

"Where's my mother?" Sirius asked her.

"Your mother is in immediate mourning, Mister Black," she said in a stern voice. "She is not to be seen in public until after the funeral. You should know that."

Sirius gave a nod. He had called him "Mister", he noticed. Was this a confirmation that he was, in fact, the owner of the Black estate?

They were led to a black car, and a man—also dressed in black—opened the door for them. As they made their way to Grimmauld Place, Sirius wondered how much of this he could take. All the servants would be dressed in black until at least a week after the funeral, and his mother would be forced into mourning for a year, at the least. Everybody would be coming around, giving their condolences in whispered voices, sneaking around the house when it really wasn't necessary. And of course, the stares, both condescending and overly sympathetic. This would no doubt be Grimmauld Place at it's dreariest.

Upon entering the house, there was a soft meow from his feet, and he looked down to see a white cat twisting itself around his ankles. She the only member of the household who would be just as friendly as ever.

"Hey there, Cocoa," he said, kneeling to scratch the cat's ears as she continued to rub herself on him.

"Cocoa?" Remus asked, skepticism in his voice.

Sirius gave a small smile and stood. "Come on," he said. "Let's escape to my rooms before anybody tries to give me their sympathies."

Up several flights of stairs, and he pulled a set of spider keys out of his pocket. He opened the door and they entered the room, before closing the door again.

Most of the furniture still had the white sheets over them. However, the bed was already uncovered and made, and the naphtha lamps on wall brackets were lit. Sirius also pulled a sheet off a red sofa and a desk in the corner of the room. He cracked the door open again for a moment to dump the sheets into the hallway, and pulled a cord, signaling somebody to come get them.

Remus had taken a seat on the couch, and Sirius plopped down beside him. The werewolf was looking around the room with interest, and Sirius had no doubt that his lover was also testing the air for the smell of him. At last, he seemed satisfied, and allowed Sirius to lean his head on his shoulder. A soft knock sounded on the door, and Sirius resisted the urge to yell in frustration.

"What?" he snapped.

The door opened and his brother stepped into the room.

"I heard you were bringing somebody," he said, just as quietly. "And then I saw your stuff out in the hall, and………" Regulus trailed off uncertainly.

"And?" Sirius said coldly, raising his eyebrow.

Regulus shrugged, flicking his dark hair out of his equally dark eyes. There was a silence, and Regulus scuffed his foot on the hardwood floor.

"I kinda just wanna get outta here," Regulus mumbled.

"Mum would die if she heard you not using proper English," Sirius said, giving a slight smirk.

"Who cares?" Regulus said. "Mum has more important stuff on her mind than if I don't feel like talking proper."

"You're not the only one who doesn't want to be here. For more than one reason."

"Mm……"

After a moment, Regulus turned and left the room again, shutting the door with a soft click. Sirius turned to see Remus studying him carefully. The expression was unreadable. But then, many of them were. He once again, leaned against Remus' shoulder, watching with some degree of fascination at their hands entwined.

Sirius didn't notice that he had dozed off until Remus was giving him a soft shake. He looked at his watch, and was surprised to find it nearly midnight. Without even bothering to get undressed—save for kicking off their shoes—they lay down on his bed and Sirius fell asleep just as suddenly as he did before.

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Notes: Hm….second chapter already……I love switching from points of view, so will probably see that a lot in this story ! And no, I don't know what this is leading to yet. 


	3. Chapter 3

Before he married, Grimmauld Place had not been very well kept. Saturnine was a single man with a ministry job, and those two combined made it against all codes for him to keep track of the household, a woman's task. So upon the arrival of his young wife, who had been trained to keep things moving in a house, the staff got quite a shock. In the end, the housekeeper had been replaced, as had two cooks, three maids, and a valet. Soon there was never a single dusty room and no chandelier was ever missing a candle. The house was bright and beautiful, the model of aristocracy.

Angeline sighed, as she looked around. The hallways were dim during the day now, as if in mourning, and the staff was once again neglecting their duties. Apparently they seemed to think that since _she_ was mourning her late husband, she wouldn't pay attention to how things were kept. They'd be in for a surprise.

She made to take off her robe and climb into bed, but paused. There was a worry lingering in her mind. She tied the waist again, and took her wand from her writing desk. She opened the door and looked down the dark corridor, holding her wand out for light.

Quietly, she moved up the stairs and toward the other bedrooms. The first door was open, and she shone her light in, and saw Bellatrix--now her only unmarried neice--sleeping peacefully. Angeline shut the door and moved on. The door to Narcissa's room was shut, and Angeline didn't bother to look in. Even if Narcissa wasn't able to take care of herself, her husband was more than powerful enough.

Upon the approach of Regulus' room, a floorboard creaked under her foot and she saw a light in the crack underneath go out quickly. She pushed the door slowly open and looked in the room. The room smelled faintly of paint, and she could see that her younger son had gotten quickly into bed.

She moved to his bedside. A hand reached out to brush his hair, then stopped. He was still awake, and she didn't know if Regulus would like it.

Regulus, her baby. Her baby who had found Saturnine dead in his study. What would that have been like? And with a jolt, she realized that he _wasn't_ her baby. He was fourteen, nearly an adult. She'd missed it completely. She had missed her sons growing up.

A swish of a nightgown, and she was out of the room before she sobbed and gave herself away. A moment to pull herself together, straighten her long hair that was already in a braid and wipe non-existant tears, before she continued at last to her oldest son's bedroom.

The two of them, her son and his friend, had fallen asleep on his bed, completely clothed, and no under any blankets.

Angeline had never seen this friend before. She was glad to see that Sirius had chosen not to bring Potter or Pettigrew who--although both pure of blood--were not very company to be seen with. She had no doubt they were good friends, but the Potters were on the opposite side of the political spectrum and the Pettigrews were known to be extremely simple.

She would save observations until both were awake and she could properly judge him.

Carefully, she placed a hand on Sirius' head. Sirius. The love of her life. All the way from his deep blue eyes--which could darken to black in annoyance or anger in an instant--and thick black hair, to his firey temper and rebellious nature he was like his mother. The two of them never mixed well, though, and fought nearly every day now. And every day her heart broke.

She leaned in and gave a light kiss on his forhead, the most affection she would ever have the courage to give him.

Often, she wished she had been taught to be a better mother. She had been trained from birth to be a lady, a hostess, a wife. She had been ready for that. But she had never been ready to be a mother. She didn't know how to show her love to her two sons. Her two sons, who--despite Regulus' naievete and Sirius' rebelliousness--she loved more than anything in the world.

Angeline made it back to her room, and slipped into bed. She would need plenty of sleep--and probably quite a bit of brandy--to make it though the day.

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Notes: Sorry, not a real update. Just fixing an error >.

Yay, I made it! I wanted to write a chapter for Sirius' mother. Really, I never saw her as _hating_ Sirius. There was a quote--and I know I'm going to slaughter it--about a woman never being able to hate her child, always loving it. And somehow I feel that Sirius is probably a lot like his mother.

Also, my own computer got fried. The one I'm using now only has Wordpad (ugh), and I am without contact to others. So please, if I make a mistake, mention it, so I can fix it with the next update!

**Sir Deranged Reindeer: I don't really see Regulus as _mean_. He seemed more like he just didn't know what he was getting into.**

**Also, thanks to Georgie's Girl, Kilikapele, and Audrey G. Black for the reveiws!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Bellatrix gave a gasp as her maid tightened the strings on her corset. She could never really see the point of the fashion. And it seemed incredibly unfair that she had to wear one and the muggleborns and half-bloods didn't. It was the only thing she would ever be jealous of.

"Bella?"

She brightened instantly, and looked around the dressing screen as her younger cousin entered the room.

"Regulus! What's up, kid?"

"Not much," Regulus sat on the chair at her vanity. "Just thought I'd say hello."

"I heard Sirius brought one of his _awful_ friends," she said. "Do you know who it is?"

"Lupin."

"Oh," she sighed. "I guess he could have done worse. At least _he_ minds his own business. More or less."

Regulus smiled wryly.

Bella knew that he liked Lupin; for whatever reason, Remus spent a semester in second year helping him in History of Magic. And while neither would ever admit it, there was a mutual respect there. And for Regulus's sake, Bella would accept it, simply because she loved Regulus that much.

"How's Angeline?" Bella asked.

"Moody," he replied. "Wouldn't _you_ be?"

"If Rodolphus died?" she said. "Nope."

Regulus looked surprised. "But…you're marrying him!"

"Only because Mum and Dad would disown me if I didn't," Bella laughed. "If I didn't, I probably never talk to him again, once out of school."

"I don't believe that. You'd have to be connected in _some_ sort of social way."

"Indeed," she said.

"But you'd talk to Severus again, wouldn't you?" Regulus asked slyly.

Bella stiffened. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm not _stupid_ Bella."

She turned to look at him. He was looking at her intently.

"You must _never_ tell _anyone_," she said. "If you do, I'll—"

"I won't! You know I wouldn't!"

Bella pulled the dress handed her over her head. Her maid buttoned up the back, and Bella walked around the screen. She shooed Regulus off the chair to a couch against the adjacent wall, and sat down to have her hair done.

"I hate black," she sighed. "I hate wearing this much. It makes me feel like a widow. I'm too young to be a widow."

"Of course you are!" Regulus eyes sparkled through the mirror. "You're not even married yet!"

Bella smiled back at him. "Maybe I can arrange that I _am_ a widow before I'm married."

They sat in silence, gazing at each other through the mirror. They both knew she was only half joking. Bella was not a moral person. She had ambition, and she had quick wits, and she had a temper that could only be matched by Sirius's and Angeline's. It was an advantage and disadvantage of Alphard marrying Angeline's second cousin. There was little doubt that she would have no qualms about killing anyone in the way of her own plans.

The maid finished on her hair, and left the room. Bella studied her hair for a moment.

"I don't know if I like human service better or not," she said thoughtfully. "They certainly are more aware of fashion than house elves."

"Mum doesn't like seeing them," Regulus said. "any more than she likes the thought of them touching our food."

Bella laughed. "More like she likes to show off that she has the resources to _hire_ help at the same time. It's all part of the show."

"I wonder how well she'll keep it up under these conditions," Regulus said.

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?"

The two smiled at each other.

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Notes: Holy Cheezits! I haven't written fanfiction in _ages_! My computer doesn't recognize half the names anymore cries. 

Thank you to those who reviewed! And I beg you to keep reading, even if the updates _aren't_ as frequent as they used to be! I still love Harry Potter, fanfiction, and all you people out there that take the time to read my shit!

This chapter was actually supposed to be from Regulus' pov. I actually decided moments before writing it to make it Bella's. We're going to get one hell of a tangle with all the stuff going on, I think. So please, tell me if you get lost, maybe it'll help me improve the way I write—meaning always have discreet reminders of all the _other_ subplots.


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